EC - Fight Club
by Le Joe
Summary: In which Knuckles discovers he fails at life and somehow makes it all work out anyway. Part of a fan-series. Genre is angst because wow, that's just hilarious right there and yeah, Knuckles can be a total angst-bucket sometimes.
1. Another Brick in the Wall

**FIGHT CLUB**

From the [_Eternal Chaos_] fan-series.  
Chapter 1: "Another Brick in the Wall"

* * *

_Newark. Mid-October. Three months after the advent._

Newark wouldn't be so bad if not for the constant dreariness of the putrid, grunge-infested city. Smog, overcast, rain, heavy rain, a single, fleeting day of sunlight, more smog, rinse-repeat. What had it been, three months now? Ten weeks? He'd lost count. But hell, maybe that was for the best.

The crisp, mid-October wind encircled him, weighted down by the polluted grime constantly lingering within the city air. The overcast denied the ever-warm sunlight and threatened rain. The city's esteemed river - of which he swore he heard somehow caught on fire at some point - seemed to give the shady, deprived area even more of a chill. He shifted his shoulders, dark green scarf around his neck readjusting ever-so-slightly as it slaved itself to the crisp breeze, hands shoved in blue-jean pockets as he paced the city streets along the cracked and crumbling sidewalk, trash blowing along the empty pavement in company.

He hadn't been planning on staying this long. Well, none of them had. Not really. But for him, time wasn't something he was willing to just stand by and watch waste away. Unlike his so-called companions, it simply wasn't something he could afford, because unlike said so-called companions, he had a lifelong duty to fulfill. But regardless of honorable duty or not, here they were, stuck in an unfamiliar world within unfamiliar bodies and on their way to being kicked out on the street without a penny to their name. And oh how they'd learned how friendly a place Newark was. In other words, if someone didn't come up with something soon, they were all as good as screwed. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who ever thought about that.

He came to a stop, now standing in front of an old, dilapidated brick building that stood three stories high. The busted and boarded up windows were a common sight for the area, but somehow, someway, he'd come to find this particular piece of shit building as home. The sooner he could strip himself of such a useless sentimental value and find a way back to their _real_ home, the better. It was just another reminder of how much time he didn't have.

The front door was always unlocked. Hell, did it even have a lock to begin with? The hallway was vacant and silent, aside from the footsteps of his own person thumping against the hollow, wooden floorboards. The stairs creaked each and every rotten step of the way, despite the deteriorating and discolored fabric so elegantly draped over it. The second floor hallway was just as barren as the first, but as he paced the coldness of the solitary expanse, he came to a stop in front of a door he'd become all too familiar with.

It only took a single, deflating sigh before the faded copper doorknob twisted and he entered the room without further reservation.

"Knucklehead! Hey, buddy, where've you been? Any luck on finding some leads?"

He should have guessed as much. Leave it to Sonic to immediately badger you with questions the very second you dare return to the only place in the entire city you know you won't get mugged or shanked while trying to get some shut eye.

The door banged to a close behind him. "It's the same in west side. No one knows anything." Knuckles replied with little mirth, shucking his jacket and hanging both it and his scarf on the coat hanger by the door. "And besides," He added, looking back to Sonic as he sat at the kitchen table, playing some sort of card game with Tails. "We have a bigger problem. The rent's piling up and we have no way to pay it off. At this rate we'll be searching for leads while sleeping in the subway station with the rats." And by rats, he more meant sleazebags begging for booze money, not actual rats. But yes, there were actual rats too. Plenty, in fact.

Sonic and Tails exchanged a look. One of those skeptical, somewhat concerned looks that spoke of both hesitance and some sort of vague, possibly pre-determined decision based on a pre-evoked conversation somewhere along the way. Funny how he was never present for those.

"Don't worry about it, Knuckles." Tails was the one to reassure with that innocent, friendly smile he was so good at expending. "We have another week. I'm sure we'll think of something by then."

The naïve optimism was almost too much for him to bear. He'd seen too much of this city - too much of this world and its people - to solely leave their fate on something as unreliable as hope.

"Oh yeah?" Knuckles had to challenge, irritation setting in. "You've found a job then? Because from what I've seen, there are none. This crummy city is dying." Hell, it was probably already dead. Would explain the smell anyway.

"Aw, c'mon. There's always something to do around here." Sonic offered with a lofty shrug, ever the backup for his BFF. "Something someone's willing to pay for."

"Hah," Knuckles couldn't help but laugh. Not in the cheery way, mind you. "Maybe that would actually mean something if you weren't the type to run around helping everyone for free."

Now, to be fair Knuckles was never one to criticize Sonic's altruistic side, but sometimes - just sometimes - he wondered how far the idiot would go when it meant he, his BFF, and everyone else he dragged along with him had to suffer for it.

And yet, Sonic could only offer back a cheery grin, that stupid, mischievous spark in his eye. "Hey, I'm the hero, remember?" He tossed back, thumb pointed back towards his fabulous self as he leaned in the barely-stable chair. "When people call on me for help, I can't refuse."

It warranted a sincere grumble from Knuckles anyway. "Well, _hero_," He laid in, rolling his eyes while approaching his two roommates. He flung a sack of unopened letters on the table amongst the cards, once stashed in his jacket pocket. "Maybe you can help with _this _then."

Sonic picked up the first unopened letter, flipping it over without much more direction than that. "Uhh..."

"They're bills, Sonic."

Sonic's emerald eyes darted up to his insistent, cross-armed informant. "All of them?"

"Not this one..." Tails answered, having picked one of the letters up himself, only actually daring enough to open it. The paper inside was marked with red, the font large and bold in some areas, directing attention to dire cause. "They're going to give us an eviction notice." He observed, his own cyan eyes thoroughly scanning the paper. "...In three days."

"What?" Sonic's unrest was apparent as he sat up in his seat. "What happened to our week! I thought we - hey, Knux, where ya goin'?"

By this time Knuckles had made it to the other side of the room, having completed his assiduous task of the hour. "Got an early morning tomorrow, so I'm hitting the sack early." He said, not bothering to look back with his reply, instead only rubbing an aching head and shoving his way into the darkened bedroom. "Try to keep it down."

The slammed door would typically be an indicator of some sort of angered tension, but with Knuckles there was no such thing as a door being shut. They only slammed.

_**TBC...**_


	2. Another One Bites The Dust

**FIGHT CLUB**

From the [_Eternal Chaos_] fan-series.  
Chapter 2: "Another One Bites The Dust"

* * *

_Newark. Three weeks later.  
_

Oh how the tides so quickly turn. One day you're the enforcer, the next you're just some sorry SOB who can't so much as hold a steady job.

They'd managed to fend off the landlady who'd been demanding rent money for days on end, everyone having somehow managed to land themselves odd to steady jobs around the unforgiving city. Tails was currently working as a telemarketer, making those obnoxious phone calls all day every day. But hey, amongst their group, he had the best paying job. Sonic was running around as an errand boy for some pizza delivery company. Fasted thing alive indeed. Seemed happy enough with himself anyway. Amy and Cream were waitressing at a local diner somewhere downtown. Not the most proper customers always paid them visit, but the tips were nice.

And him? Well, that was a sad little story in and of itself, wasn't it?

It wasn't always easy being a hothead, that was for sure. Whether it was door-to-door sales pitching or construction work, Knuckles always managed to find some way to get pissed off and in turn, piss everyone around him off, including but not limited to customers, associates, and employers. So, pretty much everyone, yes.

And no. This time was no different. Pity that.

"You don't understand, sir! They started it! It was self-defense!"

"You gave one man a black eye and sent the other to the hospital for a concussion!" Was his stark reply. "Do you have _any_ idea what kind of lawsuit I have on my hands? I could go out of business thanks to you!"

A single fist slammed down on the desk, vibrating the entirety of the small office. "I already told you, it wasn't my fault!"

The fattened, pointy-bearded man behind the desk instantly recoiled, dropping the phone he'd been furiously punching numbers in and folding into himself like some sort of bug curling in defense. "Don't hurt me!" He cried out, sure to fear for his safety from such a display. "Please! I have a family!"

Knuckles paused for a moment as if realization hit, then retrieved his fist, imprint left on the metal desk before him. "I... didn't mean... Look, I'm not going to hurt you, I just-"

"Just get out! Go! Leave! Please!" The man persisted. He reached for his phone dangling off the desk. "I'll call the police if I have to! I will!"

The Newark police. Right. What a joke.

"Don't bother." Knuckles bit out, shoulders stiff and fists balled with tension. "I don't stay where I'm not wanted. I'm outta here."

And that had been that.

This had been his fifth job. Five times now he'd been let go or straight-up fired. And not once - not a single once - did any of his companions even hint as such woes. How did they do it? How did they manage to scrape by time and time again without trouble? Like it was effortless. How did they deal with... with _people_? And why couldn't he?

"I'm not cut out for this." He decided on the long trek home, absentmindedly kicking a tin can in the street as it dinged across the chipped pavement, thoughts wandering back to the peaceful days on Angel Island, guarding the Master Emerald in the comfort of his lone solitude. He was out of his element here, away from what he knew so well. If simply understanding how these people lived was hard, then actually fitting in and existing with them was impossible. He just couldn't do it. And no one could say he didn't damn well try.

It was well into the evening by the time he reached the boarding house. The orange hue of the setting sun was actually a nice change of pace from the dull overcast usually plaguing the city, the river beyond the building illuminating with a golden-orange reflection, making it almost seem pure and unsoiled. But beauty was only skin deep, as Knuckles had found out, the river more a sewage system for the city than an actual body of water. Comparing it to the rivers of the Mystic Ruins only reinforced how incredibly out of place he really was in this world.

But oh, if only his woes stopped there with his own depressing mood in beating himself up.

"What do you mean you were fired!" Amy's shrill voice scolded without restraint. "That's the fifth time this month!"

"Well it's not like I _asked_ to be fired!"

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you did!" Amy spun on heel, arms crossed over her flattened chest with pout as she stood center in the second-floor living room of their esteemed boarding house. "You're not even trying! Everyone else is working so hard every day to help pay for expenses, and all you can do is goof off and get yourself fired!"

It was times like these that both Sonic and Tails found themselves withdrawn to the far reaches of the second floor living room, Amy's dramatic ranting seeming to be some sort of anti-augmentation to Sonic's typical freelance persona. And Tails... well... Tails. What could he say; Amy could be downright terrifying sometimes and with the lot of them living under the same roof, she wasn't always easy to escape. On the other hand... those cowards.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Knuckles defended, equally incensed. "You don't even know what happened!"

"I don't have to! It's the same story every time and I'm tired of hearing it!"

It was true. The same story bit, anyway, Knuckles' often unmanageable tempter going unmatched in the trouble-making scene. He'd lose his temper, he'd lose his job. Pretty simple, really.

"Hold on a second, Amy..." Tails dared to squeak out, slowly crossing the room towards the fiery dispute. "We should really give Knuckles the benefit of the doubt here. I mean, we don't really-"

"He lost his temper and got himself fired!" Amy cut the boy off, turning to face Tails in all her ferocity, who recoiled back with a wince. "How many times does it have to happen before you finally get it, Tails?"

"Mister Knuckles didn't mean it, Amy..." Cream was then the one to brave, standing in the kitchen area and holding onto the counter as if some sort of protective barrier. "I'm sure he can find another job..." Poking its head around the corner of the same counter, Cheese offered an echoing "Meow" in agreement.

Great. Knuckles couldn't help but feel a sense of shame now.

Amy gave a pouting huff. "Cream, you're too young to understand. Just... go to your room, okay?"

Cream withdrew more behind the counter and he could just swear her long pigtails drooped slightly as if rabbit ears.

"Leave her out of this." Knuckles defended. "I'll get another job. I've done it plenty of times before. It's not that hard."

"I don't know if you've noticed, _Knuckles_," Amy shot back. "But you're getting a serious rep in this city. People aren't going to hire you because you have such a horrible working record."

"That doesn't mean anything!" Knuckles countered. "There are jobs everywhere if you know where to look!" He turned to their assumed mediator. "Tell her, Tails!"

"Yes, Tails, tell her." Amy agreed, expectant gaze upon the boy.

Tails looked to Knuckles, then to Amy, then to Knuckles, then to Amy. He poked his two index fingers together and seemed to sink into himself with a hint of guilt. "Well..." He admitted with unease, looking to Knuckles. "You do get into fights a lot..."

He couldn't believe it. Even Tails was against him now. Knuckles let out a grumbling growl.

"We need money to stay here," Amy continued, ever the lecturer. "And we can't do it without you pitching in too! If you can't find and keep a job, we're going to be evicted!"

"I'm not going to let us get evicted!" Knuckles threw back with unsure assurance. "I'll find another job, so quit hassling me already!"

"You are SO stubborn!" Was all Amy could shout, stomping a foot. "I can't believe you! You're missing the point entirely!"

"I still believe in Mister Knuckles..." Cream again offered, daring to again peek around the cabinet corner.

A steady pause echoed around the room with that, the storm quieted but tension ever-present. It was in that fleeting moment Knuckles offered a single, quick glance to Sonic across the room, of whom was oddly silent. He didn't get much in return for his lazed effort, only one of those pitying sort of looks. Typical.

Finally, Amy gave into a tired, exasperated sigh, holding her head. "Cream... you're just so naïve sometimes." She continued after a moment. "Knuckles isn't ever going to learn how to control his temper. He's never going to _change_." She gave a look to the culprit directly with all accusation, her following words more a statement than a question. "Are you?"

Knuckles grit his teeth. Amy's condemning eyes of unforgiving accusation harshly fixated on him were like daggers twisting in his chest. God, he hated this.

As if in some sort of last-resort effort, he turned to Sonic, still across the room. "And what about you?" He finally had to ask. "You think I'm a lost cause too?"

For the first time in a long, long time, Sonic was silent without spark-of-the-moment answer. Maybe he was going to answer. He probably was. He always did. But the anger and hastiness within him had no time or patience for it.

Knuckles bit out a bitter tsk, head snapping away. "Whatever. I don't have to take this." And without further ado, he stormed over to the coat rack, snatched his jacket off with a good yank, the coat rack almost falling over, and was no sooner out the door.

"Knuckles, wait a minute!" He could hear Tails calling after him.

"Please don't go!" Even Cream pleaded.

The door slammed.

_**TBC...**_


	3. Another Thing Coming

**FIGHT CLUB**

From the [_Eternal Chaos_] fan-series.  
Chapter 3: "Another Thing Coming"

* * *

_West Newark. Three hours later, late evening..._

The setting sun had finally descended beyond sight, the chilling twilight having taken its place, and all he could think at this point was damn, it sure would have been nice to have his scarf right now. Too bad he'd forgotten it in all of his anger-inspired haste to leave the crummy boarding house and its obnoxious inhabitants. By now the rage burning within him had simmered down to a fair degree, which had been his primary source of heat, to be honest. Now he was beginning to feel hints of icy fingers of cold wrapping around him, but yes, he was stubborn enough to not begrudgingly saunter home just yet either.

Oh no, there was still _plenty_ of time to blow off steam, cold as hell outside or not.

Anger and frustration with both himself and the sorry lot he was stuck living with festered within him as he paced the streets with hands shoved deep into jacket pockets, steamy breath slightly visible in the chilling air. What was their problem anyway? They didn't need to tell him how much he sucked at this... city-living thing. He already knew. Damn Amy for being so insistent. And damn Tails for backing her up. And damn Sonic for... for just sitting there like a useless lump all quiet and weird.

The more he tormented himself with thinking about them, the more heated he got. You know a real moment of angst when that single thought skips across your twisting mind, wondering what would happen if you suddenly disappeared without word, never came back, left so-called friends to their own devices since you were so damn hopeless.

But that fleeting, angst-ridden thought didn't last too awfully long, Knuckles' pace having lessened a peg as he continued to pace the increasingly derelict streets. He'd been in west side before, but the area was actually pretty big and looked a little different at night and yeah, okay, fine. He was lost.

Damn.

He came to a stop, his tall figure now looming over the sidewalk. West side was more popular then east side, but this particular area didn't seem too thriving. Poor-quality, artificial lighting shined dimly through windows in the surrounding buildings and he couldn't shake the feeling that someone - something - was watching him. It was a vibe that'd haunt him often in this city, but one that rarely unnerved him enough to this degree - to stopping bluntly in the street to actually take time to take in his surroundings.

Eyes closed, dark red hair softly swaying in the chilling autumn breeze, it almost seeming like he was in some sort of introspective trance, the picture quite odd for the shady scenery. Years spent alone on Angel Island, thinking to himself, meditating and strengthening his senses and honing his ability to understand and engage his surroundings... Indigo eyes opened.

No. He was definably _not_ alone.

Sharp eyes drifted to the right towards a darkened, shady alleyway, body remaining an unmoving statue. "Who's there?" His low, firm tone cut through the once quiet air.

A footstep. Then another. Then another.

A figure appeared within the alleyway - at first a dim silhouette until it emerged as a lanky, thin man with a pointed face, hunched in posture with a wry sort of toothy grin on his scarred, pale face.

"Welly-well-well. Aren't we per-cep-ti-uv to-night."

Knuckles didn't move, eyes fixating on the strange man. He supposed he was attempting to say 'perceptive', but he was more concerned with discerning whether such a creature was a threat or not to call him out on it.

"Kindda late ta be out-n-about, eh?" The man continued, despite his silent response. A flicking sound was heard, a faint glint catching his target's eye. "Could get, how do yer say, dan-ger-i-ous."

Yeah. Definitely a threat.

Knuckles was quick to turn to a fighting stance, fists out in front of him as he now faced the man. "Back off, pal." He warned. "I'm the last person you want to piss off right now."

The man's sharp-toothed grin only widened. "Aw, but I ain't look-in-in ter piss ya off." He swayed, speech patterns already giving Knuckles a headache. "Jus' may-a-be help lighten yer pock-a-its a small size."

So he was being mugged. Was that it?

Knuckles let out a grumble. "Look," He tried to reason. "I don't have any money on me." So very true. "And I don't want to have to hurt you. But I-"

Feeling a sudden presence behind him, Knuckles quickly pulled to the left as a glinting metal forced past him, barely missing his person as he reflexively seized the outstretched arm connected to the blade and heaved it over his shoulder, sending a new figure - this one large and bulky in size - over his own body and to the ground with a hard thud, his attacker now lying on his back with the metal object - looked like a switchblade - clanging over the pavement.

The large man lie groaning on his back, Knuckles darting his attention back to the lanky man ahead of him, who continued to wear that slimy grin.

"Weeell," The man before him offered. "Seems yer got sum mettle to ya. Least this'll be int-er-i-est-in!"

Knuckles gave a growl. "You bastard!"

Two more figures came from the shadows - his eight and ten o' clock.

"Eat metal, punk!" Eight cried - a scrawny but feisty-looking young man with short red hair and decked out in black leather, much like his companions. More glinting metal came his way. But Knuckles was ready for it this time.

Dodging the first attack with a spin, Eight was left off-balance and tripped over the larger man he'd taken down a moment before, who was attempting to recover himself from the ground, only to find his clumsy comrade thrown on top of him.

And then there was Ten. "My turn!" The man cried - a good-sized man with a snake tattoo plastered across the right side of his face. Too bad for him that by this point, Knuckles was done.

Left hand caught Ten's attack by the wrist, deflecting it with a quick redirect while his right hand balled into a fist and shoved it into the man's gut without the slightest bit of restraint, said man giving into a good 'oomph' as the dagger in his hand fell to the ground with a clang. Eyes rolled to the back of the man's head and Knuckles let him fall to the ground himself.

He wasted no time turning to cover his exposed six, now to find the large, muscle-toned man from before recovered and ready for more. He stood across from him amidst the street, fading street lights exposing bare minimum features, the beefy man staring at him with raised blade as his remaining companion - the scrawny spitfire - attempted to regain his bearings. Seemed it was a standoff of sorts.

"You're a dead man!" The enraged hunk of meat finally shouted, coming at him on impulse alone.

Knuckles easily maneuvered around three swift though careless swipes of the weapon before giving a quick kick to his attacker's thigh - a vital of balance, open target, and point of distraction - and as distraction initiated, the man caught off-balance, he followed up with one punch of his left fist to the man's jaw, and finished with one final, powerhouse punch from his right fist to his face, sending the large man spinning in the air a short distance before landing to the ground with a thud. This time, he didn't get back up.

Looking up again, his remaining opponent stood, holding his own pocketknife in both hands like an idiot. Yet another stare-down instigated, this time a bit more drawn out, the scrawny young man obviously struggling with hesitating uncertainty after having witnessed his companions' demise, only able to look to his fearsome target with trembling legs.

Knuckles didn't say a damn word, instead gesturing with his hand in the typical 'come at me, if you dare' motion.

"Oh, screw you!" The kid shouted, charging despite better judgment... only to run into a single, outstretched arm, the momentum flipping him back as he landed on his face. Even if he could have, he didn't get up. Good choice.

Fresh out of willing opponents, Knuckles looked back to the dark alleyway where mister grin-like-a-shady-bastard still stood, who was no longer grinning like a shady bastard. Instead, he scowled like a pissed off asshole.

"This ain't over, ya hear!" The pissed off asshole shouted, receding back into the shadows as sirens blared in the distance. "Yer ain't seen-in th' last a me!"

"Hey, get back here!" Knuckles shouted after him, ready to take chase. Instead, he stopped, witnessing the three men he'd taken down now wearily scrambling around, helping each other up and supporting one another as they clumsily fled the streets to the darkened alleyway after the fourth.

The desire to chase after the sorry bastards lessened a peg, Knuckles calming himself. He couldn't help but feel some sense of satisfaction in watching the slimeballs run away, and really, the entire ordeal gave him something. It felt... good. Maybe he just needed to let off some steam. Maybe fighting really was all he knew. Maybe...

"Psst! Hey! Hey, kid!"

Knuckles snapped to, looking to the other side of the street. There a man was - short in stature and a little on the chunky side - his head poking out from a door to a brick building wedged between others.

"Don't you hear those sirens, son?" The man asked. "Quick! In here before it's too late!"

The sirens _were_ growing closer. Though he'd had absolutely no idea what they were before, after three months in this putrid city he'd become quite familiar with such obnoxious sounds. He had come to find that sirens meant one of three things: firefighters, emergency servicemen, or the police. Based on what had just gone down, he was betting on the latter of the three.

Heeding advice, wise or not, Knuckles jogged across the street and into the shady brick building, the short man excitedly waving him on the entire way and door banging closed behind him upon official entrance.

**_TBC..._**


End file.
